You Gotta Move
by Marknetick
Summary: "You Gotta Move" is a runaway story. It's set in the Texas Commonwealth, where the main protagonist, Dylan, has been on the run from an unknown predator. He's been running his entire life, but he now wants to confront his chaser, and find out what his parents did that explains for his life being in danger too. This is a work in progress and is subject to change.
1. Foreword

Hey guys, just a quick word before the beginning of the story;

This is my first story, so go easy on me. I'll happily look at and accept any criticism, suggestions, or even tips that come my way, because I am kind of an amateur writer. I want to change that, so listening to what others say is a pretty important goal of mine. I want to _know_ any audience that I have, through what they crave in stories, and I also want to gain experience and just learn in a general sense. With this story, "You Gotta Move", I do have a plot in mind. I'm not just making it up as I type it, and I don't want it to be something simple. I see a lot of fan-fic on the internet that obtains so much success, but when I read it, it literally just takes the entire story of, for instance, a video-game, and just novelizes it, with very few new ideas of the author thrown in. It's well-written, don't get me wrong, and in a way, it's quite fun to read, but if you've played the actual video-game that it's based on, you know what happens next. On top of that, to call it "fan-fiction" is pretty debatable, because it isn't the _fan's fiction_. With others, I find that the story is so vague, simple and lazily written, that I lose interest almost immediately. I do wonder why stories like those get all the fame, but other, more talented artists, get hardly anything. It's the same case in the music industry, unfortunately.

I'm not at all saying that I'll deliver something even better (I probably won't), but I do want to try and strive for something that I can be proud of, whether or not it achieves the success that I'd like.

This is a story-in-progress, so chapters will be added as I get round to writing them. Changes may also occur with some pre-existing chapters, whether it be simple corrections to spelling mistakes or grammar, changing diction or syntax, or even adding entire new passages. Once again, I'm open to any suggestions/ideas.

Enjoy.

-Mark

...

"You Gotta Move" is meant to be a story of the human condition, which something that I'm rather fond of writing about. It's set in the Fallout universe, in the "Texas Commonwealth", which was what it was known as before the Great War.

The main protagonist is "Dylan", a troubled young man who finds himself in the pursuit of an unknown, but dangerous enemy. Dylan has been on the run from this threat for as long as he can remember. "They" murdered his Father, shortly after Dylan was born, leaving only his Mother to take him into the Wasteland and raise him and keep him safe by herself. The twosome tried to keep a low profile; never affiliating themselves with other people, always using fake identities, small talk only and watching their backs - "They" could be anywhere and anyone. The story takes place shortly after Dylan's Mother passes away. Dylan knows about everything that his Mother ever taught him about surviving the anonymous "Them" - not talking to or trusting anyone - but he finds himself at the breaking point of loneliness, where he is desperate to find someone he can trust. Humans weren't designed to live like this. Dylan is content on surviving, but to truly live, he will have to confront his fears and find out the truth. Who are "They"? What did his parents do? What do "They" want with him?


	2. Prologue - You Gotta Move

"You're new around here, aren't you?"

Dylan gulped, with a faint look of panic on his face.

"Oh, don't you look so surprised. I've been here since the beginning of this place – the actual "Rocketville" town, I mean. My family started the town, you know. We didn't officially found it, of course, but we were the first settlers on this land, and after us, more people drifted in. That's how we were able to snag this place first and start this here inn. Not bad, huh? Not many inns or hotels are built out of a Pre-War fuelling station, as far as I know."

"Yeah, it's okay."

"You kidding me? The place is a dump, but you'll get your caps' worth. Either you're on the strong stuff, and I mean, _really_ strong stuff to be saying stuff like that… or you're just used to seeing places that are in a heck of a lot worse shape than here… uh, where'd you say you came from again?"

"I didn't – and I'd prefer to keep that information to myself. Sorry."

"Okay, okay. Sorry I asked, but I _do_ need to know that you're not hear to cause any kind of mischief. If you are, then I can call my Daddy on over, and he'll be happy to grab his shotgun and blow you out back into the dust from where ya'll came from, you hear?"

"Listen, I'm not here to cause trouble, ma'am. I just need four walls and a roof for a night. That's all, I promise. I'm tired, I've had my fair share of shit, and I'm sick of trekking in the dirt all the time."

"Well, that's a fair enough reason, but when I let strangers under my roof, I like to know a bit about them in case I have to sleep with one eye open. You seem like a smart guy, you know what I'm talking about."

"I do, and that's why I don't want to share too much."

"Lookie here, mister." The bar-maiden stopped to face Dylan. "I'm not asking you to show any kind of identification and bore me to death with your life story, like those gun-toting, military folks at Fort Collin. Give me your first name at least."

"Jefferson." Dylan immediately replied.

"Bullshit, but you know what? I'll cut you some slack. You don't seem like your here to cause trouble, more than likely you're trying to run from it. But I'm warning you, no funny business, or you're out on your ass – or worse."

"Understood." Dylan sighed with relief.

The two approached the end of the hallway, at the back of the Rocketville Inn.

"Here it is." She said, unlocking the door of Room 14.

Dylan walked in first, and stood in the middle of the near-empty room, taking in the sight. The bed, which was composed of a singular bed-frame and an ancient, dirty mattress, was shoved to the very corner of the room, near the window, where the sun beamed through. There was also a storage-chest on the other side of the room, and aside from a few candle sticks that surrounded the head side of the bed, and the mass of dust floating around, there was nothing else to see.

"Okay, so here's the key. Breakfast's at 8, dinner's at 6. If you're late, you go without. Toilet's across the hallway, and please, blow the candles out when ya'll go to bed. You good?"

"I'm good. What's with the Nuka-Cola bottles, though? Anyone gonna come in and clear those up?"

The bar-maiden chuckled. "Honey, you're gonna have to pay me a lot more if you expect a tidy room. I ain't no cleaner. Blame the last guy who slept here."

"Alright. This'll do." Dylan turned back around and received the key from the bar-maiden.

"I'm Mandy, by the way. Holla if you need something."

"Why? What else do you do?"

"Well, I man the bar when Daddy's not around, but… I offer _other_ services for men with _other_ needs." Mandy began to unzip the front of her dress.

Dylan quickly grabbed her hands, restraining her from zipping down any further.

"No, what're you doing? You don't have to do that, that's not what I meant. You know what? I'm good, I'm good. Just… you can go now."

"Whoa, there." Mandy grinned. "You're _really_ not from around here, are you? Somewhere far away, I bet. Most men can't say no." Mandy nodded and zipped her dress back up again.

"Gross. Well, I'm not really like "most men"."

…

"You know, I like you. You seem more real than everyone else – like something else moves you. Not many people around here are fuelled by anything other than self-interest."

Dylan shook his head. "No, I'm no different in that category, unfortunately. My life's been nothing but self-interest."

""Unfortunately"?" Mandy questioned, unconvinced. "Sounds like that could change any minute."

Dylan remained quiet.

"Alright, well, if you get thirsty, we got clean water down at the bar. Mostly. Come by, later. You look like you could do with a stiff drink."

Mandy turned around, stepped out and began to swing the door closed.

"Wait. Mandy?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I didn't mean it like… I didn't mean that you weren't pretty and all. I just… don't work like that. You're the first person aside from my own Mother that I've spoken to. I'm not around people often enough."

Mandy pulled a curious face almost amused. "You know, I _do_ have questions, but since I know you won't answer any of them, I'll hold back. Maybe I'll catch you later."


End file.
